


ho'ohiki

by artisan447, Siria



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Episode: s03e24 Aloha Malama Pono, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artisan447/pseuds/artisan447, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Steve does a quick left-right, keeping just ahead of the HPD cruiser, and risks a glance at Danny." A missing scene from 3.24.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ho'ohiki

Steve does a quick left-right, keeping just ahead of the HPD cruiser, and risks a glance at Danny. He's a little pale and, okay, one hand braced on the roof and the other on the door is never a good sign. But he is surprisingly calm, considering.

"You okay, Danny?" he dares to ask.

"Okay? Oh, I am just dandy, thank you for asking," Danny manages as they swing around the next curve. "Having a front seat view while you turn my car into a _hurtling decoy_ is exactly how I prefer to spend my afternoons.” The sarcasm comes with a glare that would strip paint. “However, I can appreciate there are greater goals to be achieved here, that do potentially warrant the taking of a little risk. So. I am _okay_."

"That's surprisingly Zen of you, Danny, I'm impressed." It's true, Steve is impressed. Danny doesn't normally find rational until way after the dust settles.

"Well, it's possible I've come to understand that this is what passes for normal behavior among people from your planet— _watch out for the pedestrian_!"

Steve maneuvers them safely around the guy who's obliviously texting something while jaywalking, and his lips twitch into a grin despite his best efforts. "Score ten points for cultural-awareness training, then," he jokes.

And, okay, considering the glare Danny tosses his way, maybe that _was_ pushing things a little too far.

"Thank you," Danny says, "I'll keep that in mind, how much I've come to know about the behavior of the McGarrett in its natural habitat, when we're both—red light red light _red light_ Christ—when we're occupying cells next to one another."

Steve grits his teeth as they swing onto Kapiolani, feeling the strain of such a high-speed turn in his arms, his shoulders. "No one's going to jail, Danno." He swerves around one car, then another, hears the roaring blare of a horn from a truck as he cuts it off in order to pull off onto a side street.

"Yeah, well," Danny says, staring fixedly out of the front window. "Best case scenario, let me keep my fingers crossed that none of us are convicted felons by the end of this wee—oh my god, not up on the sidewalk, what are you... you are so paying for any damage to the chassis, you realize."

"Come on," Steve says, gunning the engine to pull around some slower moving cars. He risks a glance in the rear view mirror, sees that the cruisers following them are losing ground thanks to the building rush hour traffic. "Kono's not going to be convicted, Fong's on it, no way the forensics are going to stand up. This is a lousy frame job."

"Granted," Danny says, "that is very apparent. That's not... look, for me, if this is what it takes to get things done for Kono's sake, I'm going to do it. But we're breaking at least three dozen laws right now, I should be booking myself, okay Steve?" Danny presses his hands together, turns them inwards so that his fingers point at his chest. "You get that? And they tend not to let single dads with a criminal record keep sole custody. This is my point."

"What? Danny, no!" 

Is _that_ what Danny's thinking? Steve's so appalled that for a minute his vision greys out and they almost hit an oncoming motorcyclist.

"Steven!" Danny shouts, the genuine fear in his voice cutting through Steve's distraction.

He wrestles the car into the lane-way behind Young's Dry Cleaners on the off chance the back garage entry is open, because his concentration is completely shot and he can't drive like this. The door's open, and he swings down the short ramp and in behind one of the big delivery trucks before cutting the engine.

They sit there in the semi-dark as the sirens squeal past, and then it's quiet enough that he can hear the engine tick.

"Danny." He turns sideways, but Danny doesn't look at him; he just stares out the front window, breathing hard. Steve reaches out and grips his arm. "Hey. That is not going to happen," he declares, putting as much force as possible into his words. God, there's no way he'd let anything they do affect Danny's custody arrangements. 

"Steven—" Danny finally looks at him and he seems so resigned to the possibility of having to face one of his worst nightmares head on, all for the sake of something Steve threw them both into, that Steve's anger kicks into furious life.

"No!" he interrupts, grip tightening. "You listen to me, Danny. There is no way, no way that anything we do here is going to come back on you. You hear me?"

"You can't promise that. No!" Danny says, when Steve opens his mouth to argue, "No, Steve, you can't promise me that, okay? You can't just _decide_ that there will be no consequences to our actions, things don't work like that. That is not how life works."

Steve feels a muscle in his jaw jump: thinks about all the reasons Danny has to feel that way – Rachel, Gracie, Matty. Thinks too about Freddie, about his dad, about all the times he could have fought harder to keep his people safer. That isn't going to happen here. "Look, this is all going to be okay, Danny. We're going to prove it's a set-up, and then I'm going to talk with the Governor. Denning's a good man, okay, he's not going to let anyone take Gracie away from you just because you did the right thing. We're doing the right thing, Danno."

"I know," Danny says softly. In the dim light, he looks washed out: a faded photograph of himself. "But since when did that ever matter a damn? Don't make promises you can't keep."

Steve sits and looks at him for a long moment, and then moves with the impulse, leaning in to take Danny's face in his hands and kiss him.

And, God, it's amazing—Danny's lips are soft, and the stubble on his cheeks scratchy under Steve's fingers; he can't imagine why he hasn't done this before. It’s not as though he hasn’t thought about it, he has—the fantasy has taken on a well-worn quality in his mind, like a talisman grown smooth through long touch—but it always felt as though he had too much to lose. Now, the closed-in space of the car, the quiet intimacy of the semi-dark, and Danny’s candor makes him want to take a chance. Steve kisses him until the breath catches in his throat, then pulls back far enough to see Danny's face.

"Well, how about a promise I can keep?" he manages, heart pounding. 

Danny's still for a minute, and then he makes a soft irritated sound and blinks his eyes open. Steve starts to lean back, because wow, that's a serious scowl. But Danny doesn't let him get far.

"Now?" he complains, grabbing two fists full of Steve's shirt and holding him in place. "Now, here? In the middle of this, this _insanity_ , is when you choose to do this?"

He reels Steve back in and when their lips meet this time it's harder, more desperate, and _fuck_ Steve wants to climb into Danny’s lap. But the center console’s in the way so he has to make do with tugging Danny’s shirt free and sliding his hands up the broad expanse of Danny’s back. Danny's skin is warm beneath Steve's palms, the way the muscles there flex as he moves promising strength and solidity both. Steve's panting when Danny finally lets him go and he couldn't speak if his life depended on it. But turns out he doesn't need to because Danny's not finished yet.

"You," Danny says, and stabs a pointy finger in Steve's chest, "have more issues than Lindsay Lohan."

"Who?" Steve says, baffled. 

Danny sighs. "Never mind. Just…" He closes his eyes for a moment, mutters something to himself that Steve can't catch. "You're making a lot of really big promises here, Steve. To me, to my baby girl, to Kono. And I, maybe, have somewhat of a track record that makes it so that trust isn't always the easiest thing. So if we're doing this—if we're doing all of this, taking down that Noshimuri jackass and, and being… whatever the hell we are with the make-outs. If we're doing this, I need it to be because it's a long-term good thing, not because you just decided screw it, short-term gain, who cares about the collateral damage, hoo-yah the Navy."

Danny's almost breathless by the time he finishes speaking. 

Steve stares at him for a long moment, trying his best to untangle what Danny's just said. 

And, not surprisingly, the thing that sticks most is the last bit. Because for him, hoo-yah and Navy have always meant family, and commitment, and something worth fighting for.

So hell, yeah, maybe that _is_ what he's thinking.

"You know what, Danny? 'Short-term' and 'easy' aren't even in the ballpark of things I've thought about. Not when it comes to making out with you, anyway." He grins, because he doesn't want Danny to take that the wrong way.

"Oh, really?" Danny leans back, and Steve's relieved to see the ghost of a smile curve his mouth. "You spend a lot of time thinking about this—" he lets go of Steve's shirt with one hand and gestures between them, "—do you?"

"Okay, well not this specifically, no, but—" He hurries to get the rest out because he can see Danny opening his mouth and he’s not done yet. "No, Danny, let me finish. Look, I didn't just wake up this morning and think 'oh, hey, car chase would be good, maybe make out with Danny a bit'. Shut up. My point is that this is not a, a… _whim_."

"Right. So the car chase was totally pre-meditated, then?" Danny's full-out grinning now.

"That," Steve says, "was a tactical decision fully mandated by the requirements of the situation."

"Uh huh," Danny says. "So this was a…"

"Maybe I didn't have a pre-defined strategy, no," Steve says. He winces a little, internally, at the thought of the conversation he needs to have with Cath; their arrangement leaves room for seeing other people, but only with prior notification and mutual consent. Of course, he recognizes now, the way him and Danny carry on sometimes, Cath may have tacitly given her consent long ago. "But I'm trained to make an assessment and go with my gut, Danny."

Danny squints at him. "I have been propositioned in far more romantic terms, you realize. No car chases, no talk of _guts_. Ginny McCarthy once bought me front row seats to a Yankees game."

"But?" Steve's pretty sure there's a but coming. 

"But! Much as I admire Jeter's ability to roll-over a double play, I am also fond—an advocate, even—of participatory sports. For myself."

Steve doesn't even try to control the smile spreading across his own face now, because he has a feeling he knows where they’re headed, and Danny’s shoulders have finally lost that tension that had been twisting Steve’s gut into a knot.

"Is that right?" he grins.

"Yes. Yes, it is," Danny nods, and it's the most ridiculous attempt at serious Steve's ever seen. "I am not averse to new experiences, you understand. And you, Steven McGarrett," he pokes Steve in the chest one more time, "are one hell of a new experience."

"Right," Steve nods. There's no way he's apologizing for that. "So, ahhh… you wanna go home and get naked?"

Danny blinks at him, then twirls a finger around in a way that encompasses the two of them, the car, the fact that they're still sitting in the near dark behind a dry cleaner's. "Well," he says, dryly, "we could do that, we could. And I don't want you to think I'm not enamored about the prospect of getting you naked, because I'm excellent at blow jobs—"

Steve can't help the shiver that runs through him at that: imagining Danny on his knees and his hot, hot mouth, the sounds that they'll make, the way Danny's hair might feel when tangled between his fingers. 

"—truly excellent, Steven, demonstrations are in order. But there's that pesky fact of how the two of us are still technically in the middle of a high-speed chase with half of HPD after us because we just helped a colleague of ours evade arrest."

"It's not evading if it was a stupid idea in the first place," Steve protests. 

Danny pats him on the leg. "Your profound lack of knowledge of police process is almost a comforting thing to me at this point. Come on, let's finish this thing, put Lukela out of his misery, okay? And then we can—"

"Home?" Steve says hopefully.

"No," Danny says firmly, "we have shit to do. But if we can get through at least the next couple of hours without shit blowing up, getting fired, or having to go on the lam proper, I promise to spend several quality minutes making out in a supply closet with you. Deal?"

"Okay, Danno," Steve grins, and guns the engine.


End file.
